Remix, Chapter 9: Solo free porn video

Remix, Chapter 9 : Solo By Brevdravis After leaving the doctor's office, Anne and James quickly took a side trip to the local pharmacy, where an obviously amused clerk had filled the prescription for the pill. James was instantly reminded of an old George Carlin joke about having to get a note to get laid. They left as quickly as they arrived, and soon were once again traveling in the battered station wagon. "You've really been doing very well over the past few days, Maggie." Anne commented suddenly as she drove. "Thanks, Mom." James replied, leaning back and stretching slightly in her seat. "I just, well, I mean there was no sense panicking." "Maggie, that's the most mature thing I think I've ever heard you say. " Anne looked over at her new daughter with a slight smile. "I .... This is going to sound really bad." "Go ahead mom, I've been dealing with worse." James said, thinking about Randall and his constant "jokes". "Being a girl seems to agree with you. It's just that you seem more mature. Older somehow...." Anne concentrated on driving, but the thought was clearly spoken carefully. James wanted to confess right then and there that it wasn't just being a girl. It was seven years of the school of hard knocks. It was knowing what he had done wrong. It was all of these things and more. "After that oh be gee why en visit, I'm not so sure..." James sighed, deflecting the subject. She wasn't looking forward to going home, since she had nothing to do there either. They drove along in an awkward silence, when Anne's face brightened suddenly. Her hands twisted the steering wheel, and pulled the car over to the side of the road. She looked at James with a mischievous smile. "Maggie, let's do something fun. Just something that you want to do. Everything that we've been doing recently has been my idea. First thing that comes to your mind." "Abinante's." James responded instantly. She couldn't explain why she chose that, other than her desire to play the guitar again. "The music store?" Anne was somewhat surprised by the comment. "Ok, uh, sure... Did you want to start taking piano again?" James had indeed taken piano. For six months. About five years ago. She had no desire to take it up again, but nodded at her mother. "Or something, I just kinda feel like checking it out." "And here I thought you hated shopping..." Anne grinned, turning the car back onto the road. "Well, clothes, yes...." James murmured, looking out the window at the streets of Monterey. Here and there a tourist in a loud pastel shirt would be visible, snapping pictures. The car finally turned onto Alvarado street, and Anne found a parking spot about halfway down. They exited the car, and walked along the street towards Abinante's. They passed a long line of people waiting for whatever the summer blockbuster had been that year. James wasn't interested, and didn't even bother looking at the marquee at the theater. The small bell rang again as James led her mother into the small music store once again. The same clerk who had given her so much flak the previous visit was there, but this time actually looked up at James' approach. "Hello, miss, ma'am. How can I help you today?" The smile on the burly man's face was genuine, but something about it gave James the creeps. It was probably the way the clerk didn't look into her eyes, but dropped his gaze lower as he greeted her. James said a silent prayer of thanks that her mother hadn't insisted she wear a skirt. She had, unfortunately, insisted that James not wear her prized leather jacket. "Nah, just looking." James mumbled, her eyes immediately scanning the guitar wall once again. This time her eye was not drawn to the Les Paul, but to a bright red guitar underneath it. Fiesta Red. "Actually, perhaps you could help me." Anne spoke to the clerk as she realized that James was not paying attention. "My daughter is thinking about getting back into piano, and we were wondering...." James did not listen to the rest of the conversation between her mother and the clerk. Her eyes were fixed on the guitar. Solid body electric. Fiesta Red. Three single pickups. Vibratio. James noted the triple layered guard in black-white-black. Her eyes drifted over the double cut out body, up the long neck to the black "Fender" logo on the head. A classic Stratocaster. New, of course. Looked like a ninety four model. That had to be wrong, since it was only ninety three. "Maggie? The piano section is this way." Anne placed a hand on the shoulder of her nearly drooling daughter. "Uh, Mom? I'd kinda like to take a look at this Strat." James gestured towards the guitar on the wall. "The what?" "The guitar mom, I'd like to look at it." James groaned at his unfortunate use of slang. "Honey, we have a piano at home. If you really want to take up music again, I think you should stick with what you've got some practice on." "Please?" James asked, pleading with her eyes. After a moment of contemplation, Anne nodded. "Alright, but you're just looking." A brief negotiation with the clerk, who James noted did not ask for ID, and the guitar was off the wall and in James' hands. It felt right. There was no other way to describe the feeling of holding the instrument. She briefly ran her fingers over the frets on the neck, before accepting the plug from the clerk. With practiced ease, she snapped the pickup into place on the lower corner of the guitar, and spun the three dials on the faceplate to comfortable settings. "Maggie, don't turn it up too loud. We don't want to annoy people." Anne cautioned, noting her daughters action. "Don't worry mom, I think it'll be cool." She smirked slightly, declining the pick the clerk offered. Picks were for losers who couldn't play. James tried to decide what to play. Her first impulse was to break into an Eric Johnson guitar solo, since they were fun to do. However, the level of skill that they required would most likely freak out her mother. Likewise for her other musical influences. He mind raced, before remembering a few times that she had covered Mark Knopfler songs. Those sounded good, and didn't require too much technique, just a lot of feeling. Her fingers tightened, as she hit first several notes, then a chord, followed by several other notes. The piece she was playing had been composed for a film, but she was fairly certain her mother had never seen "Local Hero." This particular piece had a lot of Scottish feel to it, but was thoroughly modern. It wasn't fast, but required the full concentration of the guitarist to pull off properly since the entire effect was in the pauses and the timing. As James played, Anne's face went from an expression of tolerance to one of amazement. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as James spun the dial at one point to work with some subtle finger picking. The music floated through the store, not overwhelming, but insistent. Despite the growing pain in her fingertips, James pushed on, finishing the piece with the final three chords and a long vibrato. She looked up to see Anne staring, as well as two other people who had come into the store from the outside to listen. The sound of two people clapping isn't deafening, but it is gratifying. "Damn, I'm possessed! Wonder if I can play the accordion too?" James quipped as she stared at the face of her flabbergasted mother. "Maggie, where did you learn?" Anne asked, looking at James, who was flexing her left hand in pain. "Around. Look mom, if I get back into music, I think I'd like to play guitar." "Margaret. I want to know where you learned that." Anne stated, her expression getting slightly severe. James wasn't sure what to say. How could she explain that she had attended a conservatory? How could she explain four years of hard work. Extremely hard work. There was no way the sixteen year old she was could have learned that. "Mom, I just know. I don't know how. Maybe I'm channeling Buddy Holly." James tried humor, perhaps that would work. "Maggie, I don't know what to say. Can you play anything else?" Anne asked, looking at James with a quizzical eye. "Can you play, uh, I don't know, can you play any Cream?" James recalled that her mother loved Clapton. With a wry smile, she began to pick out the first few notes of "Layla". When she hit the first chord, Anne raised her hand. "Ok, you've convinced me! You can play!" Anne looked at the clerk, who was still listening. "How good is she, by the way?" "Damn good. Uh, scuse me...." The clerk blurted out, while staring at James' chest. "I mean she's really good for a beginner. She's getting really good tone out of that guitar. Which I might add, is on sale today." James ignored the lecherous stares of the clerk, her eyes drifting down to the Fender in her hands. It was a good guitar. It wasn't the best, but she didn't think that asking her mother to fork over a thousand or so dollars for a guitar was a good idea. Good for a beginner, obviously the clerk didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Of course, she had picked a beginner's piece. "Hmmm." Anne said, looking at James. "If we get this, you promise to practice every day." James nodded enthusiastically. Practice every day! Dear god, mom, she'd be lucky if she didn't practice every hour on the hour! "And no more hanging out on Alvarado Street, because I think I know where you were coming." Anne looked meaningfully at the wall of guitars. James nodded again. These were the easiest conditions anybody had ever imposed. "And you're getting your ears pierced today." "What?" James broke her silence with a shocked exclamation. "That's the deal honey. I had given up hope on getting you some nice jewelry, but if you get your ears pierced I have something to work with." "But that has nothing to do with music, mom!" James realized that she was whining again. "That's the deal, take it or leave it." Anne said, looking at the price tag of the guitar with a shrug. "Toss in an amp and cords?" "A SMALL amplifier." Anne countered, "And you don't turn it up too loud." James thought about the offer, not really wanting somebody to stab metal through her ears. The urge to play soon won out however, and she closed her eyes, and spoke her next word through gritted teeth. "Deal...." With that, James unplugged the guitar and placed it on the counter. The clerk wasted no time in retrieving a small canvas bag with the name "Fender" emblazoned upon it. James quietly pointed out a one foot by one foot amplifier, which her mother nodded at. The cords were just as simple, and soon the entire package was assembled on the counter. Anne paid by credit card, with a smile that somehow conveyed the feeling that she had gotten the better of the deal. James hoisted the canvas bag that held her guitar onto her back. Her guitar. The amp was light, but seemed slightly heavier than comparable amps she had lifted in her time. She realized exactly what that meant. As a woman, her upper body strength was less than what she was used to. Although she could carry it in one hand, it was far more comfortable to use two. Anne led the way, opening the door so James could stumble out, items in hand. "I'd like to hear you play a little more at home, if you'd like." Anne said, opening the tailgate of the station wagon so James could slide the amplifier and guitar in. "That'd be fun, mom. " James replied. That had been one thing she had never done for her mother. They had become estranged long before she had gotten proficient enough to feel comfortable demonstrating her skill. "But first we have to get your ears pierced." "What, now?" James asked as she sat in the front seat of the car. "No time like the present. I hope you don't mind getting it done at Claire's." *** "C'mon mom, you've had me play almost every Clapton song that he's ever written." James sighed, after picking out the final few notes of the song her mother had requested. "How bout some Johnson?" "I just can't get over how easy this is for you. Are your fingers ok?" Anne asked, looking at her daughter, who sat on the fireplace in the family room. "They hurt a little, but it's nothing I can't handle." James shrugged as she rubbed her fingers against her jeans. Guitar strings did tend to hurt a bit, and if she didn't quit soon, she knew that she'd probably have a nasty blister in the morning. However, the enthusiasm that her mother had shown for her playing had erased all reluctance. Right now, James felt so good that she would happily play till her fingers bled. "Johnson? Ok, but only one song." Anne looked out the window towards the front driveway, where Randall's truck was just pulling in. "Who's Johnson, by the way?" "Eric Johnson. Guitarist from Texas." James explained, "Has some awesome riffs." With that, James immediately struck a high note on the guitar. A rapidly descending scale followed the note, followed by another high note as a punctuation. She pulled her hands apart, and started the lower chords, rapid and upbeat, before finally settling into the main riff. The riff was quick, requiring all of her attention as her hand moved all over the neck of the guitar. "Heh, looks like somebody's compensating for something." Randall's voice was loud, compared to the quiet volume that James had been playing at. The words momentarily broke her concentration, and her finger slipped. The guitar string that her finger had lain on finally wore away the last layer of skin as she moved, causing a sharp pain in her finger. "Ow..." James winced, as her hands instantly came away from the guitar. She curled the fingers of her left hand towards herself, noting the slightly abrasion that oozed blood on her middle finger. She instantly popped the injured digit into her mouth, and sucked gingerly on the abrasion. "Randall, that wasn't nice." Anne admonished, not as angrily as she had addressed him the previous day. "So, what, Maggie's a guitar player too now?" Randall smirked. "Sounds a little frantic to me." Fucking asshole, James thought to herself. The editorial is lovely, please bend over so I can place it in the proper area. "Maggie was just playing me a piece that she likes." Anne commented, ignoring Randall's second jibe. "It was the least I could do after the amount of requests she did for me." Anne smiled at James, who still sucked on her bleeding finger. "Yeah, and how much did you pay for that?" Randall asked pointing towards James' new guitar. "Those things aren't cheap." "I paid less than we sold the dirt bike for." Anne smiled triumphantly. "It's kinda nice that Maggie has a hobby again, and that it's one that I can appreciate as well." "Yeah, whatever." Randall commented, staring at James. James tried to tell herself that he was looking at the guitar, but his eyes were looking a tad higher than that. Dear god, he was staring at her tits in front of her MOTHER. "Look, I think I'll just call it a day." James blurted out, yanking the cord from her Strat. She coiled it loosely in her right hand, as she lifted the guitar strap over her head with her left. "Thanks for listening mom." "Nice earrings, James." Randall commented as she leaned down to unplug the small amplifier. "Thanks." James replied, picking up the amp. Don't let his royal assholeness bait ya. This was not the time. Satriani. Think Satriani riffs. "Yes, I think that the girl at the mall did a very nice job on MAGGIE." Anne emphasised the last word, when she addressed Randall. "So, was that your idea or hers?" Randall's last comment reached James ears as she left the front room. She really didn't need to deal with this. It just seemed like Randall got worse and worse every day. James hadn't liked him before, but she was starting to get downright uncomfortable just being in the same room with him. As she placed the guitar on the floor, leaning against the wall, she looked at her finger again. Not too bad an injury, just a little too much stress on the skin. If she wrapped it, she could probably play a little more today. However, that would mean going back downstairs, since the tape was in the junk drawer. James shrugged her shoulders. Just because she was uncomfortable didn't mean that she should abandon her life for that asshole's sake. She tromped downstairs, and walked towards the bathroom, when she heard a giggle from the front room. She caught a brief sound of Randall's voice, murmuring something about "almost as good as her mother." Curiosity getting the better of her, she walked on further, and looked in the doorway to see Randall and Anne kissing deeply. Anne's hands, wrapped around Randall's shoulders, left no doubt whatsoever as to where the giggle had come from. A bit embarrassed, James quickly doubled back, and entered the bathroom. After closing the door, she opened the medicine cabinet, searching for some first aid tape. There was some fortunately, and it took only an instant to wrap a thin layer around the tips of each finger on her left hand. It would be a little harder to play, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about her fingertips anymore today. Closing the bathroom mirror, James noted how her earrings looked for the first time. Her fingers came up to rotate each of the small gold balls as she had been instructed. There was a brief moment of pain, and then the twisting was over. They didn't look bad, but at the same time, she had never really worn earrings, except for a brief period in LA, when she tried wearing a gold hoop in her left ear for appearance. It hadn't worked, merely making her look like a balding pirate. She smiled, noting that the earrings weren't too ostentatious. If anything, they merely added punctuation to her looks. She turned her head to the left and right, holding a finger behind each ear, and admiring the shape. Anne may have had some crazy ideas, but this one, well, it wasn't the worst she had ever had. With that, James left the bathroom, and headed to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water, topping it with a few cubes of ice from the freezer. She then walked through the front room, where she noted that Randall and Anne were no longer present, and opened the front door. The front porch had a small bench on it, and James sat upon it, looking out over the houses below theirs. On the front lawn, Elaine lay sunbathing in a fairly modest bikini. James didn't know how long she had been out there, but from the collection of Cosmo that lay next to her, she assumed it had been quite a while. "I didn't know you could play guitar." Elaine said, after she noticed her older sister come out of the house. "Didn't think I needed to bring it up." James said, looking out over the ocean. It was a clear day, and the water rippled with small whitecaps. A bit breezy on the ocean, but calm inland. Elaine pushed down the sunglasses on her face for an instant, looking at James quizzically. "Why do you have tape on your fingers?" "Played a little too much." "Oh. So you wanna play for me and Julie sometime?" "You're kidding right?" "Awwww... C'mon. The next time we do a sleepover, you have to. Please?" "Sure, whatever." James mumbled, feeling the warm air on her face. It really was shorts weather, but as long as she was in the house with Randall she would be playing it safe. "Maggie, can I ask you something?" Elaine asked suddenly, rising from her towel and walking over to where James sat. "Sure, what's up? Elaine sat conspiratorially close, and turned her head to the left and right before asking the question. "Do you , uh, like being a girl better?" "Do you like me better as a girl?" James countered the question with the same one. This was too good an opportunity as any to learn what was going on from Elaine's point of view. "Yeah! You're so cool, and pretty! I hope I look like you do when I turn sixteen!" "Why didn't you like me as a guy?" James asked, unable to believe his little sister's changed opinion. "Cuz you were a dork, duh! You hung out with those losers, and you were always hiding in your room. " "So you like having a big sister." James smirked. From dork to cool in one letter. Heck, this was a change. Elaine had never given James the time of day before, and now she was practically starting her fan club. "Yeah. I really hope you pledge a cool sorority. I borrowed the Rush pamphlet from Mom, and there are some really neat houses in Moscow." "I hadn't thought about that much, Elaine." "Oooh, and I love your new name. Maggie Fletcher. It sounds like a rock star!" "I think you're thinking Molly Hatchet, sis." The two of them continued to talk, topics ranging across the board. James learned more about her little sister from that one conversation than she had in her entire last lifetime. There was still some awkwardness, especially when Elaine tried to steer the topic towards hot current actors, but overall it was... nice. She would be spending the rest of her life with Elaine as a sister, after all. Last time James had given her only hostile thoughts. Perhaps, by trying it differently this time, she might actually have a relationship that she would be happy with. *** The beach had always been one of James' least favorite activities. She had a nasty tendency to burn with her light complexion, and disliked the feeling of sand in her crotch. More than anything else, she really didn't want to experience it as a woman. There were so many extra places to get sand lodged. Despite being in her new body for over a week and a half, James still had not become truly comfortable with it. When Anne had suggested a family outing to the beach a few days later, James had not wanted to come along. Finally, after she had extracted numerous promises that she could wear not only her old male swim trunks, but a t-shirt as well, did she concede to wearing the bikini that her mother had bought her. Of course her mother had "suggested" that if she was going to wear shorts, she had better shave her legs. That had been an awful experience. True, a sharp razor did help the situation a bit. Fortunately for James, she had always been one of those men who didn't need a mirror to shave, so the adjustment was fairly easy. Three nicks, only one of them nasty, that one being a hunk of skin from the outside of her left calf. Overall though, the whole matter struck James as a colossal waste of time, especially considering that the only man who was probably going to see it was an asshole who didn't deserve it. Despite her fears, Randall had kept fairly quiet during the car ride, during which he drove. Of course. For some reason, no matter where they went as a family, Randall always had to drive. Anne spent the time chatting with James and Elaine, leaning back slightly in the front seat. The Brandistock's never went to any of Monterey's beaches. Monterey, while a pretty enough view, was rather filthy. Fishing boats came and went on the wharf regularly, and some of the filth from the tourists always managed to find its way to the beach. When they went to the beach, they always drove over the hill to Carmel. Carmel was a funny town. The main drag was tourist central. That, combined with the lack of stoplights, made navigating the laughably small streets of the city nearly impossible. That was only the case if you took the main roads, past the dozen or so art galleries and the numerous coffee shops. If you knew the town, you could drive for miles in a few minutes. The back residential streets were a maze of large trees, parked cars, and quaint little houses that stopped being quaint the moment you looked at the price tags. Randall parked the car on one of those residential streets, and the family piled out, James somehow still being stuck with the duty of carrying the picnic basket. Some things didn't change. The day was sunny, with a light wind from the southwest. It blew right across the small beach that they were walking to. The beach was known as the Carmel River Beach, due to the small creek that had it's mouth here. To James, however, it would always be Stewart's beach, which was the name she had known it as growing up. The name came from one of the old families that had owned a home nearby. Before Anne had met Randall, a trip to this beach had been something to look forward to. The beach was a gentle curve, from some large jutting rocks at one end, down to the mouth of the river at the other. The waves sculpted the beach constantly, so from one season to another, you never knew exactly where the tide lines would be. James wore her mother's navy blue bikini under her tan swim trunks, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with "Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups" in white type. James knew that it wasn't the most friendly shirt in the world, but she wasn't feeling very friendly at the current moment. Anne and Elaine were both in swimsuits, although Anne currently wore a sarong about her waist. Elaine had no such quibbles, merely wearing a white t-shirt over hers, which she discarded as soon as her feet touched the warm sand. Randall. Well, the less said about Randall the better. He kept himself in shape, but the swim trunks he wore left little to the imagination. He too doffed his shirt upon arrival, and immediately spread out two towels for himself and Anne. Anne picked up a paperback as she lay down on her stomach, and began to read through her sunglasses. Randall immediately began rubbing a dollop of suntan lotion on her back, which brought a giggle from Anne. James pointedly ignored the scene, spreading her towel out a distance away, and lying down on it, looking at the ocean. She had brought the newest issue of Air and Space, which had come in the mail the previous day, but for some reason just didn't feel like reading it. "Hey Maggie! Want me to get your back too?" Randall's call from where he sat astride her mother's hips sounded positively pornographic. James shook her head in response, gesturing to the tube that lay next to her on the towel. To accentuate her point, she immediately hit every exposed area with the lotion. Randall shrugged, and went back to Anne. He lay down on the towel next to her, and tried to get her attention. Anne however, was very interested in her Agatha Christie, and waved him off. Elaine was swimming already. James remembered when she had gone swimming last. It had been a long time indeed. In LA, she had been at least an hour from the beach most of the time. Texas, well, she had been in Austin, fer cryin out loud. She really just hadn't had time. Altogether, she realized that it had been almost three years since she had swam. Elaine looked so happy, that James finally shucked her inhibitions and stood up from her towel. She strode down the slope of the beach, picking up speed as she went. When her feet first splashed into the receding tide, she was in a full run. Ahead of her, a wave began to crest, the water pulling back as the top loomed higher. With a wild grin, James threw herself forward, hands clasped together. She dove through the wave, and her head broke the surface as it crashed behind her. COLD! Perhaps it would have been better to take it slow, but the warm summer weather had been deceiving. The ocean here was cold, and James was rather shocked to feel her nipples jutting out underneath the water. Thank god she was wearing a t-shirt, because she possibly could have lost her top pulling a stunt like that in a bikini. Her swim trunks had already slipped down slightly, which wasn't obvious thanks to being submerged. With a sharp intake of breath, James pulled the trunks back into position, as her feet felt sand again. The water pulled back, and James moved with it, amazed by the sensations of the water around her new body. "Hey Maggie! Watch me catch this one!" Elaine shouted a slight distance off. Her sister was swimming out a short distance towards a small wave as it gathered force. James grinned as she realized that her sister was about to try to do a little bodysurfing. Elaine turned as the wave caught up to her, and began rapid arm over arm strokes. For an instant it seemed that the wave would pass her by, but then she began to pick up speed, falling with the water towards the beach. She couldn't have been on the wave for more than eight or nine seconds, but the exhilaration on her face when she stood up showed James exactly how much fun she had had. "Your turn!" Elaine shouted back as she ran back into the water. James laughed, turning towards another wave that was coming in. It had been way too long since she had done this. Her arms came over her head in a classic freestyle stroke, pulling her through the water. The wave was closer, and she turned, treading slightly. Only a few more seconds... There! She turned and began swimming hard. She felt herself rising with the water, and she swam even harder trying to stay ahead of it. The motion of her arms against her breasts was difficult to ignore, but she persevered, trying to get as much speed as possible. She succeeded a little to well, and suddenly found herself splashing onto her face in very shallow water, sand underneath her hands. The wave crashed over her back, and she stood up, very sandy and embarrassed. "OOOOH, Wipeout!" Elaine laughed as she saw James crash face first into the sand. She ran over to where James was wiping the pale sand off of the black t-shirt, laughing. "A little out of practice." James chuckled, wiping a hunk of coagulated sand out of her eye. She ran her hand through her hair, yanking the strands that had come to cover her face back. "I think I'll sit out for a while." "Ok, Watch me though!" Elaine grinned, running back into the surf. James stumbled back up the beach, collapsing onto her towel. "Have fun honey?" Anne asked over her sunglasses. "Yeah..." James said, looking back at the ocean. Yes, she was having fun. "Maybe if you crash a few more times you'll turn back into a boy." Randall guffawed, looking over Jame's sand-crusted form. "In that case, maybe you should try crashing sometime." James countered, fed up with Randall's jokes. Yeah, her temper might be coming back a bit, but right now she was sick of his shit. She was particularly pissed that he was staring at her tits again. Yeah, it was cold, asshole, you don't need to stare. "Maggie! Not nice." Anne rebuked her daughter. "Randall was just kidding." "Whatever." James mumbled, lying facedown on her towel and grabbing her magazine. She flipped through it, finally finding an interesting article on the newest spacesuit designs that JPL and NASA were creating. James remembered that they wouldn't use either one, thanks to budget cuts and another shuttle crash. Talk about great ideas going to waste. The sun felt nice on James' back. She was tempted to remove her drying t-shirt, but remembering how Randall had looked at her, decided to keep it on. Being a little warm was preferable to being stared at. The beach was pretty empty, apart from one or two lost tourists walking along it. Elaine swam, or sat on her towel reading Cosmo. Anne just read for the most part, occasionally turning over to sun some other location. Randall, well, he didn't seem to do much of anything. James went for a walk an hour or so later, heading towards the rocks at the far end of the beach. They were a constant feature of the coastline, jutting up every few miles. They were however, a great place to go to be alone. James stepped from rock to rock, hopping here, grabbing a handhold there. This place was very familiar to her, since she had spent quite some time among these rocks. A bit farther up was one in particular that was right on the edge of the water. Her hands easily found familiar places, and she scaled the fifteen foot rock easily. On the opposite side, there was a nice little niche where you could sit and not see anything but the ocean and the curve of the beach. No roads, no people, save for little specks. James sat, and looked out. At one point, she thought she could see a sea otter, but wasn't certain, since the creatures tended to blend in with the kelp that rode on top of the waves. She spent a good half an hour in that position, just reflecting on her situation. When it was time to leave, James almost wished they didn't have to go. She had swam several more times, each time better than the last. It had gotten to the point where she almost didn't care about Randall's stares. She was wearing a shirt, after all. They piled in the car once again, and drove back through the narrow streets of Carmel. It was only a short drive home, and the warm glow of the sunset was a welcome companion on their trip. *** James had to wait her turn for the shower, since Elaine had beaten her to the bathroom by racing through the house as soon as she got home. Elaine took a good deal longer than James thought was strictly necessary, and when she finally emerged she had a towel wrapped around her head. "All yours, sis!" Elaine called out to James, who sat at the kitchen table, waiting patiently. True, she didn't actually NEED a shower, but the gritty feeling in her hair was quickly becoming intolerable. Actually she had grit everywhere, not just her hair. That header that she had taken into the sand had left her with particles everywhere. As a man it had been uncomfortable, but as a woman it downright HURT. She had brushed most of the sand off her legs outside, but there was still a thin film of it in places that didn't show. Closing the bathroom door, James was struck by the cloying steam that still lingered in the room. She wasn't sure how much of the hot water in the house was left after the amount her Elaine must have used to create the clouds of steam that still lingered. Wiping the sheen of moisture off of the mirror, James noted that she looked like hell, once again. Her hair fell in ragged clumps around her face, looking stringy and worn out. The t-shirt that she wore wasn't much better, with a few grains of sand still on various parts. Shrugging, she pulled the black shirt over her head, noting the rain of sand onto the bathroom floor. Her bikini top was also crusted with the stuff, she noted as it came into view. James brushed at her top, dislodging a few more pieces of sand, before reaching back to undo the string. It had been enough of a headache tying a knot behind her back, and she was relieved to find that the reverse of the process was much simpler. As the large blue triangles came away, James was shocked to note the grains of sand in the slight wrinkles around her nipples. Talk about embarrassing. With another shower of sand, James finished removing the swim trunks, and the small bikini bottom that she had worn underneath. The double layer of protection had helped somewhat with the sand, but there was still enough to get into areas that James didn't really want to check right now. James turned on the water, waited a moment for the proper temperature, and stepped into the shower. The first thing she did was to rinse her hair of the salty residue that had built up. Unsatisfied with the remaining feeling of grit, she grabbed up the shampoo that she had begun to enjoy fully over the last few days. The smell of roses quickly dispelled the salty scent that had previously filled the air. Gently, James scrubbed her hair, still not fully used to the sensations. She had tried to keep telling herself that she only enjoyed this because it was new, but somehow, she wasn't convincing herself anymore. The feelings and the smells all made this experience far more pleasurable than a simple hair washing. Her mind drifted to the shampoo commercials that would air several years from now, featuring the orgasmically screaming women. She snickered at the thought. Rinsing the final suds from her hair, James turned her attention to removing the sand that had built up. The top portion was easy, since a simple washing took care of most of it. It was when she moved lower that James realized that there was no way she would be able to take care of the most irritating sand without touching herself rather intimately. James took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She wasn't ready for this, but she'd be damned if she'd hurt for any longer than she had to. Gently, she slid a hand downwards, and closed her eyes. "Just like your girlfriend, chill." She murmured, not doing a terribly good job of convincing herself. He fingers found the cleft between her legs. She carefully flicked away several particles of sand that mere water had been unable to remove, before moving lower. A few grains had gathered directly between her lips, and she pushed them away too, shivering slightly as the water from the showerhead coursed down her fingertips. Biting her lip, James moved her middle finger to the left, opening herself slightly. It didn't hurt like before, but the feeling was strange, like pulling back foreskin. She flicked away several more grains, the combination of fingers and water creating that strange warmth inside her. James' breath became deeper, as she continued to work her fingers across herself. The sand was leaving her, and with it so was her pain. What had taken it's place was a feeling of heat. Her fingers glided back and forth across her folds, touching everywhere. Small shocks seemed to come from a small spot at their center as her digits caressed. It was indescribable. James could feel a yearning, somewhere lower. She had to have removed all of the sand by now, but she still continued to touch, feeling the chills up and down her spine. She felt an incredible desire to touch lower. Her fingers drifted, running across a small recess in her body that she knew was the source of her new ache. She licked her lips softly, feeling the water running across her body. "Are you going to be in there all day, Maggie?" Anne's voice came with a knock on the door. James was instantly brought back to her senses as she looked down. With a little bit of disgust, she pulled her hand away from her body. "Be right out, mom!" James called, trying to fathom what had just happened. She was just jerking off, wasn't she? Oh great, you try to clean up, and there you go, wanking off. James wasn't certain whether to cry in frustration or to just... Wait a second, she hadn't brought in any other clothes. SHIT. "Mom, Can you grab me something from my room? I forgot to get some clean clothes." James shouted at the door, as she turned off the water and grabbed a towel. She rubbed herself vigorously, trying to ignore the wet feeling that emanated from that one spot she knew far too well. "Sure, Hon!" came the answering response, followed by receding footsteps. "Couldn't leave well enough alone, could ya, dumbass." James berated her reflection, obscured by water droplets. "No, ya had to go full throttle. What's next? You gonna be leaning up against the washing machine?" James felt the tears welling in her eyes, knowing that it was stupid. Why was she mad? It wasn't like she was doing anything perverted or anything. She had just... explored. Maybe that's why it hurt so much. She didn't want to be a girl, dammit! Why in the hell had she gotten into it? Her reverie was broken by her mother's knock at the door. James opened it a crack, enough to grab the clothes that were handed through, and to shout a hurried, "Thanks mom!" She began to dress in the clothes, before she noticed that her mother had brought down one of her new skirts. "Like I'm not having enough problems as it is." James mumbled, pulling the garments on. The skirt felt just like wearing a kilt again. She was actually enjoying the comfort, until she realized it meant showing Randall leg for the rest of the day. Groaning, she opened the door, and let the steam of the bathroom rush out into the house.